I wonder if I could climb this? Curiosity pulls me to the stone wall. I wedge my boot into the small opening with ease.
An assassin could use this to climb and kill Selene in her room. Why would Galen design her tower like this? If it’s so easy to sneak in, then how many times has Selene snuck out?
The main door is blocked by four guards who are chatting. I can see my reflection perfectly in the flawlessly polished black door. Dirty boots and all.
Their chat stops, their eyes widen as if I’m their sung hero. One hurries to open the door; the others lower their eyes as I pass. Upon entering, I’m met with a spiral staircase. Tapestries depicting Blackthorn adorn the entire upstairs path. I pay them no mind. It’s a pretty picture of Blackthorn, but I know the truth. I have endured the hardships so the kingdom can be painted in such colorful lies.
I reach the landing, feeling like a fish out of water. I rub the heels of my boots together. That’s as good of a polish as they’ll get.
The black stone walls are so shiny, I can’t resist poking it with my finger. Wow, it’s been ages since obsidian walls caged me. My inhale isn’t filled with the wild wind of the war camps.
How can I adjust to this?
My face is reflected in the stone, dark shades of gritty grays and inky blacks. “Who are you? How did you manage to survive and become a men?” I mutter.
I avert my eyes, focusing on the black roses that create a pattern on the carpet.
Is that…? Yep, that is silver thread in the rug.
Tiny footsteps inch closer from the opposite end, barely heard since the carpet mutes them. The carpet should be removed. It makes an assassin’s job easy as it swallows their footsteps.
I pause and brush the grime on my armor. Here it comes—the shitshow.
Will the queen be armed with her bow?
My chest widens. With practiced ease, my palm slips to my sword, ready to slice another arrow out of the air. But in order to stop an arrow, I need to slow time down.
Cotton fabric swirls around the corner first. That’s too simple a dress for the queen. One of her lady’s maids turns the corner. She stumbles when she sees me, then dips her chin. “General Titus.”
General? I guess I am.
“Your name?” I ask as I approach her.
“Mary. I am the Queen’s first hand. I…” She looks over her shoulder, down the hall, which I was told leads to the queen’s bedroom. “I should warn you, she’s in a mood.”
When is she not?
“I’m sure my presence has upset her.”
Mary steps closer and whispers, “Galen ordered me not to tell the queen she was assigned a personal guard. So be prepared.”
My fingers curl around my sword. It’s cruel to both Selene and me.
Mary reaches up and pulls at the collar of her dress. I spot a fresh bite mark. The skin is healed, but it still retains a light pink tone.
You’re no friend of the queen. You’re a spy.
I need to watch myself with this one. “Thanks for the warning, Mary.”
She smiles. “Once you untie her, I’ll bring up her breakfast.”
“Untie her?” My brows furrow.
Mary clears her throat. “Yes,” she replies as she scurries past me. I turn and watch as she heads down the hall.
Turn left. Don’t be a rat. Shit!
Why couldn’t I have been wrong about you, Mary?
